Is This the End?
by theinsanegirlwhotalkstoherself
Summary: I just am not over 3.06. Wrote this really quickly just to get through the week. Takes place right after the scene that shall not be named. Unbetaed so be nice?


"Ride him until he likes it" Those words, coupled with the image of Mickey's beaten, bloody face, haunt Ian as he tries not look up from his gaze on the floor. He doesn't want to see the horrifying scene unfolding before him. Wishes he didn't have to hear the grunts and whines coming from the two on the couch. He squeezes his eyes shut, as the Russian lets out a particularly loud moan. And it's over.

Terry takes the Russian back to his room to get his money's worth. Ian was finally able to drag his eyes up to look at Mickey. He's lying on the couch, his chest heaving as he came back to himself; his face was contorted in a mixture of disgust and pain. He glances at Ian, and then quickly looks away.

The silence between them was unbearably, but Ian didn't know what to say. He didn't know how to make this better. If even could make this better.

"Mick-"

"Get the fuck out," Mickey chokes out, pulling himself off the couch, grimacing when his shot wound rubs against the cushions. "Please just leave." Mickey stumbles to his room, banging the door close without another word.

Ian is left to collect his things, as he picks up his shirt he catches sight of the Ben-Wah beads that had been forgotten on the floor. Ian couldn't believe how they had gone from being so happy only a few hours ago, to this. The whole thing made Ian feel sick to his stomach, made it hard for him to breathe with an aching in his chest, his eyes watered at the thought that this was how it was going to end. How he and Mickey were going to end.

Ian all but runs out of there, he doesn't stop until he reaches the Kash and Grab, and he locks himself in the back room. It's only then that he lets the tears he'd been holding back fall. He cries for Mickey, he cries for himself. He cries out of pure frustration and anger. He cries for the fact that he had been completely helpless to do anything. How he just sat there and watched as his… his… his Mickey was raped right before his eyes. Ian thinks of Terry and he sees red, he's never wanted to kill anyone more in his life, he was going to kill Terry slow and painful for everything he put Mickey and Mandy through.

There was a knock at the door. Ian furiously rubs his eyes, opening the door. It was Mickey. He had cleaned himself up a bit, his cuts are wiped cleaned, and the bleeding had stopped finally.

"Can I come in?" He asks, a little nervously.

Ian opens the door just open enough for Mickey to squeeze through; he sits on a stack of boxes across the room. Ian is struck by how broken he looks, his shoulders are slumped, head down, hands in his pockets, avoiding eye contact at all costs.

"Are you okay?" Ian immediately wants to kick himself for asking such a dumb question. Of course Mickey wasn't okay. None what had just happened was okay. But Mickey just shrugs it off with a laugh.

"God, Firecrotch you're acting like that's the first time I've fucked a bitch before." His smile turns to a grimace at the memory. Ian could tell Mickey was trying to shove it off, pretend like what happened hadn't been a big deal, but wasn't working in the slightest.

Mickey looks to be deep in thought; he is rubbing his bottom lip absently mindedly. Ian wants to shake Mickey, wants to force him to talk to him, but he knew not to push Mickey in revealing his feelings. If he had something to say, he would say it in his own time.

"Listen," Mickey starts. For some reason Ian prepares for the worst. This is it; Mickey's going to let him go. He's going to tell him it's not worth it anymore. Ian knows. He knows he won't be able to handle another rejection from Mickey. He knows that this will be the last time, there would be no going back, his heart couldn't break anymore.

"The fuck if I'm going back to that asshole. I need you to go back to the group home and stay there alright? I know a guy over on K Street that can hook me up with a .45, and I don't want you around when this shit goes down, you hear me?" Mickey's looking at him intently, but Ian is too overcome with an immense wave of relief to listen. Mickey wasn't leaving him. Mickey still wanted him. Ian smiled despite himself.

"The fuck you smiling about?" Mickey asks.

"I just thought, I mean I would've understood if…" Ian says quietly.

"If I said 'fuck all' and left you hanging?" Mickeys says, with a raised eyebrow.

"Um… Yeah. I mean what Terry did was terri—"

"Fuck Terry," Mickey interrupts. "Trust me he won't be a problem for long." Mickey smiles humorlessly.

Ian looks worried, "Please Mickey, don't get yourself into trouble okay?"

Mickey stands up and walks over to Ian, placing a hand on his shoulder. "It's going to be alright, Firecrotch. You hear me?"

Ian nods, and stares at Mickey into his eyes, and it's like he could see everything. He sees the barely covered fit of rage swelling underneath flashes of agony and numbness. Ian grasped at the back of Mickey's neck, and it was like his whole façade fell. The surety in his face drops, and contorts in a mixture of fear and pain. Ian pulls Mickey to his chest, not caring in the least if he's pushed away. He just wants to hold Mickey, because this is what Mickey needs.

If he hears a quiet sniff, or feels a slight dampness on his shirt, Ian doesn't say anything. And after a few moments, Mickey is shoving him off with a "Fuck, Gallagher don't be such a pussy."


End file.
